


Freezer Burn

by hedahawkeye



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Winter Soldier AU, You can't save everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:59:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedahawkeye/pseuds/hedahawkeye
Summary: The Winter Soldier surrenders to SHIELD. Clarke slowly comes to realize that there's no Lexa left beneath the programming.





	Freezer Burn

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNING: LEXA'S DEATH

The blonde watches them when she thinks they won't notice, her eyes following them as they move around the kitchen.

"Were we lovers?" They're the last two left in the common room after a movie night. They'd sat stiffly at one end of the couch, huddled close to the armrest, until she'd cuddled up against their side, burrowed in underneath their metal arm.

~~The blonde~~ _Clarke, she remembers you saying it with a hard final syllable, Clarke Clarke Clarke, remember that, practice that,_ sighs softly and nestles her head under the crook of their neck. They can't hear her reply, when it comes long minutes later, can only feel it in the movement of her lips on their shoulder through their shirt.

_Yes, yes, yes_

\--

Clarke comes undone underneath them that night, inside them, around them. When she shouts out in ecstasy, the name of the gone girl echoes hollow in their head, _she's not here, she's not home_. They press Clarke further into the mattress, keep rolling and thrusting until her voice is raw and all she can do is whimper at their touch.

\--

Their hands are wrapped around the soldier's neck, pressing hard, enough to kill if they're not stopped. Clarke lies still beneath them, eyes calm, waits for them to stop.

They loosen their fingers, stay propped over the other woman, stare down in confusion.

"It's okay, Lex." Raspy, catching in her throat, bruises blooming on pale skin, though they know they'll heal just as quickly as they appeared. "I understand."

\--

Clarke steals a pair of headphones from Raven's lab, knowing full well that, however often the engineer claims she no longer blames Lexa for the death of her parents, she still isn't comfortable with helping her. Lexa flips the hefty accessory over in her hands for a moment, stroking the matte surface of the plastic headband, then plugs the cord into the stereo Anya had talked her into splurging on and places the headphones over her ears. She cranks the volume, loud enough that Clarke can hear the lyrics clearly from fifteen feet across the room, and doesn't remove the headphones, doesn't even _flinch_ when a thin trail of blood leaks out from beneath the foam earpiece.

\--

The shirt is too loose at the throat, the neckline dipping down over their sternum. They hold their hands tight at their sides to resist the urge to reach up and pull the fabric closer, because this is how _Lexa_ wears her clothes, the tight jeans and the tanktops exposing her collarbones and the unbuttoned flannels, which serve no real purpose if not done up. They do not mind the boots, however. The boots are acceptable for combat use.

\--

The archer watches them warily from his perch in the corner of the room.

"There's a difference between being reformed and re-formed," he says softly, hugging one knee to his chest. "I know how- I know- There's-" He shrugs a shoulder. "What I'm trying to say is, if you need to talk to someone who knows a bit about where you're coming from, my door is always open. Or you don't have to. Whatever you want, okay? It's your choice."

\--

"Why is this important?"

"It's good for you to get out, Lex," but she just keeps staring blankly, and Clarke's heart hurts when she has to press the grocery list into Lexa's hand and mumble "It's a new mission for you," and Lexa springs into action.

It hits Clarke, then, that she might be in love with a dead woman.

She wishes for a moment that Lexa had never turned herself in.

She regrets the thought immediately.

\--

The boy with the sparks in his skin sits close to them the next time they share dinner, his bare arm brushing up against their sleeve with every movement. They don't feel his attempts to dig inside until dessert has been served, until the team is slumped around the table hiding yawns behind their fists. His brow furrows and then there's a tugging at their temple, scrambling fingers trying to find purchase anywhere they can. They shake the attention off with ease.

\--

They meet in Raven's lab on a beautiful fall day. Clarke had run through Central Park that morning alone, distracted by the gorgeous colours of the foliage, wishing she had paint on hand to immortalize the masterpiece laid out before her. She's soaring high when she returns to the Tower, and then the crash comes, fast and sudden.

Blood spatters mar the shining chrome in the kitchen. The toe of her running shoe nudges the hilt of a chef's knife, sends the red-painted blade spinning across the sticky tiles.

Monty's throat is slit.

There are footprints in the still-wet pool leaking from his body, leading from tile to creamy carpet and down the hall towards the bank of elevators just off the common room.

"FRIDAY?" she asks.

"They're in the engineering lab." Her voice is subdued, raw even. "Master Reyes has been injured."

"Lexa?"

"They're in the engineering lab," she repeats, and Clarke takes off running.

They meet in Raven's lab on a terrible fall day, and Clarke's world comes crashing down around her.

\--

It snows seven inches the next day. New York comes to a standstill. Avengers Tower is hauntingly silent.

Clarke takes Lexa out for a run through the powder, their heels kicking up waves of snow behind them. They head down to Coney Island for a hotdog for lunch, Clarke eying the rollercoaster while Lexa ignores it completely. They pick up hot chocolates for the walk home, and Lexa looks the part with her scarf wrapped tight around her neck, her cheeks and ears pink with cold as her hands cradle the takeout cup. But when her eyes scan the street, Clarke knows she's evaluating threats, it's in the shift of her hips and the angle of her arm. She's readying herself to draw a weapon. She takes preventative measures, grabbing Lexa by the wrist and hurrying her back to the tower. They spend the rest of the day watching movies, Clarke spooning a stiff Lexa and crying silently behind her back. She excuses herself when her sobs wrack her body so hard she can't continue to hide them.

It reaches 7 PM. Clarke screws her eyes shut when Anya dishes dinner out onto the plates. It doesn't help to not see it happening; she still knows that the Russian is slipping anesthetics into the food, the drinks. Anya moves to take it to Lexa in the rec room, but Clarke shakes her head quickly, swallows down a sob and pulls the tray from her hands, carries it towards the seating area. She's with her 'til the end of the line.

She doesn't remember what they watch, with her eyes trained tightly on Lexa as she prays fervently for a sign that she's still in there. But the soldier's movements are still unfamiliar when she devours the food, and she refuses to meet Clarke's gaze.

The drugs kick in within minutes, and Lexa's eyes are glazed over where she lies on the couch, her body spread out to Clarke's left and her head in the hero's lap. Clarke gently threads her fingers through Lexa's hair, her face bent towards the girl, lips moving slowly as she cries. She pulls the pistol out with slow and steady motions, careful not to jostle Lexa.

The girl's eyes flutter closed as the barrel of the gun is pressed to her temple. Clarke forgives her. Clarke will always forgive her.

But she still pulls the trigger.

Lexa dies silently.

 


End file.
